


Mort aux templiers -ACUnity-

by Sylaiise



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, NSFW, but not so soon, there will be the frickfrack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylaiise/pseuds/Sylaiise
Summary: Months after the loss of his love Élise, Arno finds himself in a state of resignition and depression. Still he works hard and returns to the Brotherhood, which he's allowed to rejoin after an apology. For his overall re-entry, he gets the task to finally use the Café Théatre for what it was initially created for: Gathering Information. Those are the first steps for his reconciliation. His researches bear fruit, when a lady thief contacts him and mentions a young woman in the service of the nearly destroyed Templar order that would be willed to share her knowledge under one condition.Pairing: Arno x Own Character (Yvette Montmorency), several other OCXCanon hints as wellWarning for possibly NSFW-Stuff.There *will* be sexy time.





	Mort aux templiers -ACUnity-

**Author's Note:**

> Yvette Evelie Montmorency is the daughter of the Templar merchant Thomaj Montmorency and Emily-Louise Croy. She is married to Édouard Donatien, a young Marquis who officially lost all his title thanks to the French revolution but desperately clasps to them. He is wealthy, but sees himself as the ruler of his marriage with a fine wife to obey him. Yvette managed to arrange a virginal marriage through a surrogate. Her father also insisted to maintain her maidenhood. She was educated by good teachers and a personal gouvernante. Yvette is the third child from Thomaj and Emily-Louise, whom was mother to Yvette's older brother Mathis and her younger sister Marie-Louise. They have a paternal sibling from an affair their father had with the gouvernante, a son called Alain. 
> 
> As a married woman she cannot attend any formal meetings without receiving suspicion, therefore she uses her time as useful as possible and builds a net of spies and informants. Her 'people' are the common people, beggars and whores. 
> 
> (The family Montmorency and the family Croy had important ties to the Kings of France and the Templar order in real life history.)

He had counted the days since she decided for her own fate and death. He had counted every single one of them, until he lost sight over the living and the dead. When he saw the homeless beggar in Franciade, running away from him, his only thought was about her. Red, shimmering hair, silky and curled like the greatest preciosity on earth. A smile so wicked. Lips formed so bold and tempting, he could never resist them to kiss. His precious and beloved Élise, his lover and friend with whom went through loss and death. With her gone, he lost the meaning of life. Yes, he lost the meaning of his redemption, he held so close to his heart and his mind, that it had captured most of his soul.

It was another day. Arno's head perked up, before he looked around, confused and hangoverish. "Merde..." he cursed, his voice a raw whisper. Again, he ended up in a mess, barely clothed and a sore throat. Knocking on his door let him groan in pain. His head announced a stinging pain, which tortured him like hellfire itself.  
"Monsieur! The daily letters have arrived." The door opened. His eyes went up to the dark-skinned employee Celestine, which always smiled at him no matter how negative his mood was. "Tell me from whom." He said. His voice was raw and his tonsils hurt. "We have a letter from Monsieur Napoleon Bonaparte. The Brotherhood sent 2 letters and you also received one from Monsieur Leroux." He nodded and looked at her. There were five letters in her hand and he expected her words for all of them. "The fifth letter is from Mademoiselle Odette. I suppose. It has no name on it, only a wax seal with a dove on it." The look on his face was as thankful as it could get. He took the letters and changed his seat. From his beloved wooden chest (which contained her letters) he moved over to his desk. 

"To whom it may concern," He began to read. "The source of information is ready to bargain. Meet us where the master is buried and where pillars of the earth touch the angels. The fingers touch heaven and hell." Odette was blessed with a talent to create cryptic letters. One look on his clock told him he had still time to write responses to the other letters. With a soft sigh, he took out quill and ink from his desk.

With a snap, so silent an ear could have missed it, he opened his pocketwatch. As announced he had arrived around 20 past 5 in front of the Panthéon. Since the sky began to turn into a beautiful mix of orange, red and lilac, the crowd dissolved. It was time to go, time to get into safety. Beggars and thieves often roamed the streets for valuables to take. No matter if rich or poor. The loot was important. 

His eyes went over the remaining people, scattered all over the place. They were chatting and whispering. Arno observed his surroundings with care, ready to defend himself in case this was all a treachery. Until now he did not notice the unique movement of his thief friend he met a while ago. Nervousness creeped up on him.

In the corner of his eye he noticed a shadow and turned around swiftly. Two women stood right before him, one was the thief that contacted him, the other one was coated in a greyish mass of fabric, that looked like some kind of cowl. Probably stolen from a monk or priest. “Did take you enough time.” – “Its half an hour before our intentioned meeting.” The grey mass of fabric replied. She did not smile the slightest bit, but Arno could see the tight choker around her neck. The golden medallion caught the rest of the daylight with a soft shimmer. “Please follow me, Monsieur.” No hesitation for an invitation directed towards him. At least he now knows that the source of information appears to be a god forsaken woman.  
They entered a renovated apartment on the third floor of an old tavern. Arno knew it was close to one of his clubs. Sure, she chose a near flat, where she’d be able to observe him. No idea did he had that the Templars tried to spy on him yet again. Actually, he thought that Élise was the only capable agent from them. Odette, the thief, and the mysterious woman in the cowl went up the stairs and entered a well-furnished room. It was classy with golden plastering on the ceiling. Yet a few paintings and vases were the only decoration. He could already tell this place was only for the job. The smell of freshly ignited candles was in the air.

“Please, take a seat. I shall fetch us some glasses and a bottle of wine.”  
“Mademoiselle…”  
“Madame. Madame de Garmeaux.” 

She ignored him and vanished around the corners. Odette sat down, as did Arno. Even if he was suspicious about her hospitality. To be honest he wasn’t against the idea to drink a few sips of wine depending what kind of red wine it was. He became quite picky the past months.  
“Thank you for your patience. Here, I let it breathe for an hour, therefore the aroma should be just perfectly fine for our taste.” The woman, Madame de Garmeaux, still wore her cowl and did not show her face. But she was kind and probably intended to treat her guests first. Arno observed her quietly. His knowledge of human future wasn’t the best, was he convinced that everyone had a vile heart. Odette did not say a word until know, which surprised him.

When everyone received some wine, she turned away and took off her grey cowl. He noticed the stitched red cross on the left side. Arno did not comment this presentation. Blonde hair, teased into an up-do, got revealed, as well as a stylish high collar. No unnecessary skin was exposed. A rarity with the late fashion of the late 18th century.  
“’tis an advantage to know each other faces, no?” She commented. “When I look at you I already know, we’ll work together for quite some time.”  
“How do you know?”  
“I just know. Does it matter how?”  
She sat down on her chair in some elegant matter, he did not quite understand. Maybe it was caused by her royal ties. 

“I do cost a lot.”  
“You, Madame, are talking like a common girl to rent.” he replied.  
“And you, Monsieur talk like a man, who would rent such a girl.” Her slender fingers reached for the glass of red wine and carefully smell it. “Have a taste, while I explain.”  
Without hesitation, she took a sip. Arno observed his glass, carefully smelled his wine too. Then he licked over the edge of his glass. No bitter taste, no poison. A sip followed. And his silent approval. She had an exquisite taste. 

“My net of spies and agents is woven through Paris, as well as Franciade and Émile*. I have people in every single corner of this city – most likely those that get ignored by others. People, from whom you’d think they’re not intelligent enough or untalented to achieve anything in their lives.” She took advantage of those that others ignored or laugh at. Arno couldn’t avoid to let admiration grow in him.  
“But what do they get from this alliance?”  
“Since when do you care? Don’t play the great protector of Paris and its citizens.”  
Odette finally said something. “Still. I am interested.” Arno returned to his question.  
“Support. Food, water to drink, clothes. My husband is rich and I pay these efforts with a housekeeping allowance he gives me.” A soft chuckle fled from her lips. “Little does he know about this business.”

All three of them tasted the wine, but despite this common ground, they were conscious and careful around each other. “My offer for you: Information about the political state of this city, plans from Napoleon himself he may hide from you. Details about the Templar order and its upcoming rise.” A loud coughing came from the Assassin. “Madame, what are you talking about? They lost three grandmasters in fewer than 5 years. How could they rebuild so fast?” His eyes scanned her insistently yet Madame de Garmeaux did not react the slightest about his tense aura. “That doesn’t matter. For now. I will tell you, when it’s time to share more information.” Her glass was empty, so was his. Odette left their presence and went over the cabinet to look at the few treasures the Madame had.  
She switched seats, sat now right next to him.  
“Do you trust the Brotherhood?”  
“That doesn’t matter.” He used the same tactic as she did before. “I won’t join the Templars.”  
“Join? The Templars? Are you mad?” She giggled. “As you said, you killed two out of three grandmasters. I’m surprised that they tolerate your existence in this world.”  
“Why are you asking then?”  
“Out of caution most likely. I do not trust the Templars; prefer it to judge situations myself.”  
“Well, then. I do not trust the Brotherhood. Does this satisfy you?”  
“It does not. But it should suffice.” 

She raised from her chair and went over to a light-wooded desk.  
“In exactly 5 days the Templars will begin a training unit in Marais. Jacobins will be attending this event as bodyguards. Those trainees are teenagers, children even, not older than 13.” She told him. “To kill the leader of this unit won’t be possible without enraging those children. In this age, they become very sensitive and tend to… loose their minds. It is possible that they already began the indoctrination. But sadly, I do not have detailed information about this.”

Madame de Garmeaux returned to him and handed him a flyer. Adorned with the official wax seal from the Templar order. Arno read the few words written on it.  
“I stole it from one of the generals that visited my husband a few days ago. That’s when I got attentive of this matter.” – “And?” The Assassin looked at her, completely clueless. “What shall I do with this? Templar business is not mine. I got involved in it once, I won’t risk it again.” He directed his focus on the blond-haired woman next to him.

„What will you do with the information I offered you for free, Monsieur? After all they are very detailed about the current upcoming of new Templar knights.“ She explained yet again and Arno wasn’t able to resist it – he got quite angry. Her attitude was terrible, despite her good taste in secrecy and red wine, she angered him with every passing minute!  
They stared into each other souls, truly like enemies.  
“I could give this information to the Council.” He murmured.  
“What to tell them, when they ask you, from where you got this document?” Ugh. This woman seriously! Arno twisted his eyes away from her.  
“I will be honest and tell them from whom.”  
“No, you won’t. You can’t. You said you don’t trust the Brotherhood. Then stay true by your words.”  
“You god forsaken woman, speak clearly and not in riddles! I am tired of listening”

Madame de Garmeaux leaned back into her chair and looked at him. A sigh fled from her lips and Arno looked at her again. “My brother is the general, who will train those youngsters.” She explained, as if she expected witty and well-thought reply from him. But Arno was tired and not as troublesome and exciting as a few years ago.

„New Templar knights, trained by your own flesh and blood,“ he continues. „Why are you betraying him?“ Her lips were moving slightly, before her smile got wider. „Am I betraying him? Or does it simply seem like it?“ How she talked was weird, but he understood it: It was that Templar thing. He knew this from Élise. Just like the fact that arsenic was the favorite poison of the Order.  
„Betrayal is bittersweet for both parties.“ she described. „and the passive party normally does not notice it. In this case, yet, my brother the Templar Knight Mathis Montmorency is aware of it. That the Master Assassin Arno Victor Dorian knows about the positive uprising within the Templar order.“  
She thoroughly examined him, shifted her head slightly to one side, while looking at him intensely. „Do not talk of betrayal, Monsieur, if you do not know all the necessary information.“ 

His laugh was bitter, just like the past months of his lonely life, drowned in sweet red wine. “First of all, it wasn’t my fault to think of betrayal. It is you who speaks in riddles and forces me to guess possibilities and causalities.” A bitter smile was on his lips, before he emptied the glass of his friend who silently listened to this pointless conversation.  
„But trust me, Madame, I know way too well, what betrayal means.“ he disagreed. „I saw it in every possible form and facet.”

They decided to depart and make another appointment for another day. Arno and Odette left the apartment where Madame de Garmeaux resided and took a walk back to the Café. “She is inexperienced and appears to be too dumb. And confused.” Arno grumbled.  
“Don’t say that, she is young and is still learning.” replied the blonde thief. Her short hair and ligated breasts let other people mistake her for a young man. Still Odette had a very feminine aura. “Amongst her spies, you would be her first important tie in Paris.”  
“So the network she was talking about doesn’t exist?” The assassin groaned.  
“It does exist. Your very own maiden Celestine works with Madame de Garmeaux. She may be young and inexperienced but she isn’t dumb nor not capable of wearing such burden.”

Arno squinted at her, not believing the very words she just said. “You lack serious empathy. Think about it. Despite being married and forced to be a part of the Order, she reached out to you.” The assassin stopped walking and crossed his arms. “You need information and she may need your advice. Advice and support to keep up her giant net, she tied into the Brotherhood and the Order.”  
“It seems like she is working against everyone.” He murmured.  
“She is, Arno. And you did once as well.” Odette replied. “You, of all people, should understand her the best.”

His return to the mansion was quiet and without any commotion amongst the servants. Most of them were asleep anyway. In his room, he got rid of his coat and weapons, hung them orderly on the valet. “She actually managed to pull Celestine into her boat, huh?” He whispered to himself and opened the simple tie of his white shirt to pull it off. The two glasses of red wine at her place were nice, normally it wouldn’t satisfy him and he’d drink even more. But tonight, it was different. His thoughts went around like an uneasy, cold breeze. And the thought about this young married woman haunted him into his dreams. 

How would he be able to help her, if he isn’t even capable of helping himself?

**Author's Note:**

> *Émile is known as Montmorency in our times.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montmorency,_Val-d%27Oise


End file.
